


18

by aclosetlarryshipper



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A slightly unhealthy hate obsession in the beginning, Alternate Universe - High School, An altruistic game of spin the bottle, Because I'm literally the most predictable and unorginal person ever, But tbh the jealousy isn't like the annoying macho kind you know?, Enemies to Lovers, Improv, Jealous Harry, M/M, Park confessions, The friend period is short so I felt like I had to just tag straight to lovers, baby project, home ec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aclosetlarryshipper/pseuds/aclosetlarryshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry hates Golden Boy Louis and he's pretty sure the feeling's mutual. It's too bad they're forced into parenthood together during the home ec baby project.</p><p>Featuring accidental fathers, an improv performance gone wrong, and an altruistic game of spin the bottle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	18

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildestdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestdreams/gifts).



> Thank you to my B for randomly texting me and asking me to write this. Thank you for giving me a fun distraction when I have been having a difficult and uninspired time. You mean very much a lot to me and I appreciate our late-night chats, your tough love when I need it, and the time we had together and the necklace you bought me in New York. 
> 
> Spoilers/TWs
> 
> There are a few instances of casual cissexism, a flippant comment about roofies, a non-graphic half-observation of a live birth, a hypothetical death of a doll, and mentions of a premature birth that leads to health problems.
> 
> There's also a Conchobar joke because I couldn't help myself but it's quick and I don't think larries or non-larries will find it offensive or upsetting.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://thedarkestlarrie.tumblr.com)

18.

Harry is 18.

Harry is 18 and his mom and step-dad and sister are wearing pink party hats meant for six year olds as they sing to him. The lights are dimmed and in front of him is a cake labeled _Happy Birthday Harry!_ It maybe isn’t the ideal 18th birthday for a guy his age, but he feels lucky to be living the life he is with such a loving family by his side. That’s why, as he closes his eyes and prepares to blow out his candles, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what to wish for this year.

Sure, he could wish for world peace or for a cure to cancer, but it’s his birthday and he’s only 18 and he deserves a day to be selfish.

Ideally, 18 will be the year of graduation and celebration and new experiences. Ideally, this will be the year he comes into himself and finds love and becomes the person he’s always wanted to be.

Not that he's a terrible person; in fact, he’d be willing to bet he’s a better person than most of the boys in his grade. But he’s not the school’s Golden Boy.

So, jealous and bitter, he blows with all his might, Louis Tomlinson’s overconfident smile shining behind his eyes.

He wants to be like Louis Tomlinson.

~ 

Harry arrives to school early the next morning with a scarf tied tight across his neck and his pre-calculus notes clutched tight in his hands. The notes make no sense and Harry’s really only holding them for show, but they make him feel better.

As he passes through the hallway to get to his locker and stow his scarf, he passes Mr. Grimshaw’s classroom. The remnant smell of burnt banana bread from yesterday’s class lingers by the doorway. Harry grins and stops, prepared to say hello since Mr. Grimshaw is literally _everyone’s_ favorite teacher, but he stops short.

Because there’s already a student inside, deep in conversation with the older man.

With a rainbow apple proudly printed across his shirt and a soccer bag thrown lazily at his feet, Louis leans against Mr. Grimshaw’s desk like they’re old friends.

Harry’s hands clench at his sides. Everyone loves Louis so much, which is exactly what makes Harry hate him.

Louis, with his quick wit and extra curricular activities and perfect grades. With his ability to somehow stay good friends with his ex of over a whole entire year after being the school’s power couple. Louis, with his outrageously high Insta follower count for an Internet commoner (4,553, not that Harry keeps track in a jealous obsession.) With his ability to make anyone and everyone laugh without even _trying._ Which in turn led to him being handed the coveted role of leader of their school’s improv group, a group that he _didn’t even have to try out for!_

Harry tried out the year after Louis joined. He got through the first round of cuts, but then was told by Louis himself that Harry’s speaking voice was too slow for their team’s vibe and that they didn't have a spot for him.

Harry hates the improv team. And even though he wants to hate the institution itself, the _group_ is okay because they raise money for the LGBT club on campus (one that Louis formed with his ex Aiden, of course. Golden Boy.)

He just hates the people, he’s decided. But of the people on the improv team, he hates Louis the most.

Sure, Louis tutors kids at the local YMCA on the weekends and he volunteers at the hospital his mom works at, but Harry _hates_ him. He hates him so, so much.

And Harry thinks it’s possible the feeling is mutual. Louis wouldn’t ruin his Golden Boy persona by ever outwardly disliking or talking shit about another student except for the homophobic captain of the football team, but Louis’ eyes never sparkle in the Golden Boy way they do when he looks at Harry. Louis never invites him to his fundraising events for his club and the way he’d rejected Harry for the improv team was colder and more impersonal than Harry has ever seen Louis with others.

Louis makes an effort to try to get to know everyone else, but he doesn’t know much about Harry other than that they’re in the same home ec class and Harry’s apparently the Worst at improv. The most intimate moment they’ve ever shared was when Harry accidentally peed on Louis at 14 and Louis went half Golden Boy on Harry and winced as he said it was fine.

Harry’s not unpopular. Louis can’t just accidentally _not_ have gotten to know him. It feels purposeful, and Harry doesn’t know why because Louis doesn’t seem like the type to harbor grudges over yellowed shoes. And honestly, Harry seems like the kind of person Louis would get along with well. He volunteers every other Saturday at the animal shelter to play with the kittens and clean their cages, and maybe he’s not on Golden Boy level, but he’s not a bad person.

He knows that logically, but still, when he looks at Louis he feels like the rejected scum of the earth.

Harry hates him.

It’s just Harry’s luck that he’s mortal enemies with the nicest person ever created. Harry hates Louis and he also hates himself for hating Louis.

He turns away from the door and pulls off his scarf with shaking fingers.

~ 

With his breath like garlic from the hummus he just ate during lunch, Harry drags his feet into home ec. Mr. Grimshaw nods at him as he passes through the door. Harry may not be as good of friends with Mr. Grimshaw as the Golden Boy sitting front and center, but they’re friendly. Everyone likes Mr. Grimshaw. He’s young and an easy grader and his class is hardly ever boring.

Harry makes his way to the back of the room where most of the boys sit, far away from Louis and far away from acting as though he cares about the class at all. He bumps fists with Alejandro, nods to Niall, and takes his seat.

Remarkably, there are more boys than girls in the class. During registration, a bunch of guys thought it would be a good idea to take home ec to get with girls, but the idea backfired. Harry pretended he signed up for the class with Niall for that exact reason, but he really signed up because he fucking loves to sew.

So what. Sew what.

Mr. Grimshaw stands and clears his throat. The idle chatter dies down instantly. Harry slumps down and rubs at his healing needle-poke injury.

“So, let’s get real,” Mr. Grimshaw projects to the class, smirking like he knows he’s got a good story. Everyone sits up straighter. “We just finished our unit on safe sex. Everyone remembers what we learned, right?”

Harry blushes, the memory of watching Mr. Grimshaw roll a condom onto a banana forever imprinted into his brain. Does he remember? More like could he _forget?_

“The thing is, sometimes even when you’re being careful, things can go wrong. Condoms can break. You forget to take birth control for a week so you try to take all 7 pills in one day. You’re clubbing in Ibiza and you go hard on the dance floor. Then you wake up in the morning in bed with a stranger and somehow you managed to sweat your patch off the night before and your replacements are halfway across the world. All viable complications.”

Louis raises his hand. Mr. Grimshaw nods to him. Harry scowls at the back of Louis’ head.

“Are those real stories?”

Mr. Grimshaw nods. “Not all of them happened to me exactly, but to people I knew in college. Sexual education wasn’t exactly what it is today back then.”

Annoying Ali raises her hand and begins to speak before Mr. Grimshaw can point to her. “What happened to your friends that those things happened to?”

Mr. Grimshaw’s expression turns serious. “Well, the person who had a condom break was me. My partner and I immediately went to get tested and we were okay, thankfully, but that’s why safely storing condoms and checking the expiration date on the packet is so important. ”

Harry files that into the back of his mind for the future.

“None of us had a uterus so we didn’t have to worry about pregnancy, but my friends weren’t as lucky. My friend with the patch used a condom so she was okay, but my friend on the pill had a long-term boyfriend and they weren’t using condoms. She got pregnant.”

A few people around the room wince. It doesn’t deter Mr. Grimshaw, though. He smiles.

“Which leads me to why I decided it would be appropriate to discuss mine and my good friends’ sexual misadventures this class period.”

Mr. Grimshaw raises a finger and scurries behind his desk, laughing to himself under his breath.

He sits a plastic baby doll down onto the top of his desk.

“In my opinion, it’s most important to teach safe sex to prevent unplanned pregnancies. However, the school district also requires that we try to convince you horny children to wait until you’re married or financially able to care for a child to have sex. Thus begins our unit on abstinence and the dreaded baby project.”

As if on cue, the doll begins to wail.

“Everyone pick a partner you wouldn’t mind dealing with for the next eighteen years. Go!”

It takes a moment for his abrupt order to set in, but then it’s a flurry of shouting and arm gripping and relieved sighs. It’s the type of chaos that can only come from an unexpected _pick your partner_ project in a room of teenagers terrified of feeling rejected.

Annoying Ali approaches Harry before he can pull himself together to do more than stand up.

“Harry, do you want to be my child’s father?” she asks, and Harry’s eyes widen in fear.

He doesn’t want to have a baby with annoying Ali. He’s already turned her down three times when she asked him to be her boyfriend. If he doesn’t want to be her boyfriend, why would she think he wants to have a child with her?

“I was going to ask Ellis, actually. She lives close by so it would make any custody issues easy,” Harry blurts out, frantically searching the room for her blonde hair.

He spots her and bypasses Ali without more explanation. He crosses past the front of the room where Louis is gently letting Samantha know he’s gay and doesn’t want to have a child with her on principle. When he reaches Ellis, he puts his hands in his pockets and hopes for the best.

“Ellis, do you want to be partners?” Harry asks.

Ellis grimaces and wraps her fingers around Alejandro’s wrist, pulling him close. “Sorry. He already asked me. But I think you’d be a great dad, Harry.”

Harry nods and turns to continue his search.

But every girl he asks already has a partner. Harry’s actually a little bit confused. Girls flirt with him all the time and he’s been asked out by at least three girls in the class this month alone.

His rejections have either made girls realize he’s a lost cause or caused karma to bite him back. Harry’s given up on finding a partner by the time Mr. Grimshaw calls out over the noise, “Who has unappealing genes?”

Harry raises his hand and leans up against an unoccupied desk. Louis raises his hand too and… oh no.

Oh no.

Harry’s eyes dart around the room, but there’s nobody else with their hand raised.

Everyone seems to come to the same conclusion at the same time. The room grows quiet except for Niall’s snickering.

Niall, who knows about Harry’s preference for boys but a preference that definitely does not extend to Louis, no matter how much Niall likes to tell him it’s not hate but an unhealthy crush.

“Oh, this will be good,” Mr. Grimshaw grins. “Harry and Louis. You two will actually be my first _male_ same-sex parents. I’m excited.”

Harry feels his cheeks go red as all eyes turn to him. He doesn’t want to complain. He doesn’t want to seem homophobic. He also doesn’t want to have a child with Louis.

Mr. Grimshaw notices his displeasure and seems to read into it incorrectly. He narrows his eyes.

“It’s only a two-week project, Harry. It won’t kill you.”

Harry fumbles to defend himself, to somehow make it known that it’s not that Louis is a boy, but that it’s _Louis,_ but he figures both would lead him into equally murky waters.

He nods and accepts his fate.

~ 

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Louis are in line to receive their plastic child. Rather than attempting to start the project off as amicable co-parents as they wait, they’ve been arguing over a name.

“What about Jenny?” Louis suggests.

Harry shakes his head. Jenny was the name of his childhood babysitter that wouldn’t let him watch Spongebob because she said it would rot his brain.

Mr. Grimshaw motions them forward and pulls a baby out of the huge bag by the head.

“Hey! Be careful with our kid,” Louis warns him.

“Sorry,” Mr. Grimshaw lets out a sigh as he fusses with his computer’s mouse. “It’s going to be a long two weeks. It always is. Crying all up and down the halls and irresponsible parents locking the dolls into their locker. I’m not looking forward to this unit.”

“Well, it’ll prepare you for next month,” Louis smiles at him. Mr. Grimshaw looks up at him with the fucking stars in his eyes that Harry is so jealous of.

Harry didn’t get a full-ride scholarship to Standford and Harry’s never had a boyfriend for more than a confusing, whirlwind week and nobody will ever look at Harry like they look at Louis. Harry hates him more than ever. 

“A real baby is a lot more work than these dolls, Louis. A lot more responsibility and a lot more at risk. It is good timing though,” Mr. Grimshaw winks and gets back to work. “I’ll give you that.”

“I almost think you planned it this way,” Louis continues.

Mr. Grimshaw shakes his head. “No. We didn’t think we’d find someone so quickly. I was prepared for a summer baby. I’ve actually been reading the Leo horoscopes to prepare for what kind of tiny person to expect in the future. Now I find out I’m getting an Aries or a Pisces. Maybe I should be thankful, though.”

He clicks one final time and hands the doll over to Louis.

“Congrats! It’s a boy.”

~ 

“We need a name! We just need a name!” Louis runs his hands through his hair. The room is loud and thrumming with excitement over the project, making it hard not to yell.

“Why can’t we just name him Brad? Who cares?” Harry asks, equally as frustrated.

“We can’t name him Brad because I don’t want him to grow up to join a white fraternity that treats women like objects and has a medicine cabinet full of roofies!” Louis argues, his eyes sharp and murderous. “Why not Mason?”

Harry’s patience is running out. “I’m not going to have a child with the same name as Kourtney Kardashian’s kid!”

“What about Logan?” Louis suggests, his voice calmer and quieter. “He kind of looks like a Logan.”

Harry looks down at the doll. It’s wrapped in a ratty blue blanket and his eyes are only half opened. He might not even have pupils painted on. Harry privately thinks that the doll doesn’t look human at all.

“Logan sounds like the name of the child of a lumberjack. We’re not lumberjacks.”

Louis drops his forehead down to his desk. “Zeke.”

“He’ll never be able to find ornaments with his name,” Harry points out.

Louis sits up straight and looks Harry deep in the eyes for the first time. His gaze doesn’t waver. “Harry, why are you being so difficult? It’s fine if you don’t like me, but we need to name our baby. We owe it to him to give him a respectable name.”

“I never said I didn’t like you,” Harry says, avoiding the point. Avoiding Louis’ shining blue, blue eyes.

“You don’t have to. My reasons for not liking Brad are valid, but not liking the name Zeke is just cruel.”

Harry feels an odd jolt of adrenaline at the heated look in Louis’ eyes. It makes him want to push him further. “Does it bother you that I don’t like you, Louis?”

Louis’ expression falls the slightest bit. He recovers quickly, though, his expression calm and collected and his _Golden Boy_ smile creeping onto his face.

“No,” Louis answers. His words are slow and measured. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually had to fight to make someone like me.”

Harry feels the passage of power pass through them like static electricity.

“Why don’t we just let Niall name him?” Harry suggests, unsure what to do with the exchange.

Louis shrugs and nods. A truce. “As long as he doesn’t suggest Brad.”

Harry reaches past Alejandro’s desk and taps Niall on the elbow.

“What?” Niall snaps. He’s partnered with Barbara and he’s leaned in close to her space. Harry thinks he’s probably no closer to getting her to fall in love with him as he was last week or the week before that.

Harry raises his voice. “What should Louis and I name the baby—our kid?”

“What?” Niall asks again. “Conchobar? What’s Conchobar?”

“What?” Harry shakes his head. “No, I said what should we name our kid?”

“You’re naming your kid _Conchobar?”_ Niall questions him, his expression concerned as he finally turns to face Harry.

“No! Never mind,” Harry sighs.

Harry turns back to Louis.

“So?” Louis asks.

“He said to name him Connor.”

~ 

Louis asks Harry to take Connor after school because of _improv_ practice. Harry seethes at the rubbed in salt to his wound but agrees.

He holds the baby close to his chest as the wind blows, the clouds grey as he walks home. Connor looks unprotected with only his thin, ratty blanket. Feeling a bit foolish but as though it’s the right thing to do, Harry unwraps his scarf and wraps it around the baby.

“There. Are you still cold?” Harry asks, his voice quiet and silly as though he’s talking to a real baby. Cars pass along the main road as Harry feels the first drop of rain.

He sighs and pulls his hood over his head, resigning himself to a cold and wet walk.

Only minutes later, a silver car pulls up to the curb beside him and beeps.

“Fuck!” Harry jumps, scurrying away as the driver rolls down the window.

“Harry!” Louis shouts to him. “Get in! I’ll drive you home!”

Harry doesn’t want to be driven home. Well, he kind of does, but not by Louis. “That’s alright. I’m good to walk!”

“Connor’s going to freeze!” Louis argues. “Just get in! I canceled practice!”

A strong gust of wind whips Harry’s hair around. He shivers and gives in. He gets into the car without further protest.

“Turn up the heat,” Harry orders through chattering teeth once he’s settled.

Louis complies. Harry sinks into the seat and tries not to be jealous of how nice of a car Louis has. Fuck him.

“Nice car,” Harry quips, but it comes out less frostily than he intended, his eyes drawn to the rainbow colors lighting up the buttons on his dash.

“Thanks. It used to be my step-dads,” Louis tells him. “He’s old.”

When Louis doesn’t begin driving, Harry shifts in his seat.

“Are we going to move?”

“We should,” Louis agrees. “But don’t you think Connor needs a car seat?" 

“Oh my God,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Mr. Grimshaw isn’t in the car. We’re not going to get in trouble for not protecting the safety of a _doll.”_

“But we should be taking this seriously,” Louis says. “If you actually had a kid, you can’t just say the police aren’t watching. We should be responsible parents.”

“It’s not like we— _you_ —really have to worry about an accidental pregnancy,” Harry slips up. What the fuck. He doesn’t slip up. Time for overcompensation. “You’ve only ever dated Aiden. I don’t think either of you has a uterus to store a baby. You’ll be fine.”

Shut up.

Louis looks over at him, hands on the wheel. His expression is controlled and unreadable but makes Harry want to leap from the car either way. “Never a dull moment with you, I’m noticing.”

Louis puts the car in drive and pulls back into traffic.

“What about Connor?” Harry asks, his mouth dry. Louis hasn’t said anything about his slip-up, but he’s not sure it went unnoticed.

“He’ll be okay,” Louis says. “Where do you live?”

“Across from the park with the statue of that racist white guy on a horse,” Harry answers.

“The one with the swings or monkey bars?” Louis asks.

“Swings,” Harry says. The hostility in his tone has dwindled.

Louis nods and drives forward.

“Why did you cancel improv?” Harry changes the subject, still trying to read Louis. Trying to figure out whether he’s as sharp as everyone seems to think.

Louis sighs and brings his left leg up to the seat, half curling into a ball as they’re stopped at the stoplight.

“Both feet on the floor if our baby’s in the car with us,” Harry tells him.

Louis gives Harry a disapproving side-glance but complies.

“You know. I’m so glad that out of all the boys in our class, I got stuck with you as a partner. A real, responsible dad. Doesn’t care much about car seats but he’s a first class back seat driver.”

“Well, sorry Aiden’s not in class with us,” Harry spits back bitterly.

Louis’ fingers tighten against the wheel for just a moment.

“I’d never have a kid with Aiden.”

“Why did you break up?” Harry asks.

Too curious. Too curious about this boy he hates and is endlessly fascinated by.

“Is that any of your business?” Louis asks, but he doesn’t sound offended. He’s driving at a glacial pace.

“It’s my business if we’re going to raise this kid together,” Harry tries to rationalize his question.

“Mmm,” Louis agrees. “Well, I guess we were just better as friends. It was nice to have someone by my side when I was coming out, but you can’t force a spark that isn’t there. He’s kind of boring.”

Harry chokes on his saliva. Golden Boy Louis Tomlinson talking _shit_ about his ex that he’s still close with? Harry wonders what Louis’ 4,556 Insta followers would think of him if they knew.

“How was he boring?” Harry presses.

Louis misses the turn into his neighborhood. Harry doesn’t say anything about it.

“On April Fool’s Day he _literally_ made me sign a contract that said I wouldn’t prank him. He doesn’t have much interest in anything but school and his extra curriculars. His idea of a good date is dinner and a movie, every single time. And he refused to fool around anywhere more adventurous than the backseat of my car.”

Harry bites his lip, half-formed images of Louis and Aiden in various states of undress rolling around in the backseat behind his eyes. He crosses his legs.

“You’re—um, you’re still friends though?” Harry asks.

“Oh yeah. I tease him about it all the time. We’re good. I think we both realized towards the end that we were only together because, well, who else were we going to date?”

“I thought you were part of that club. That LGBT club,” Harry tries to pretend he doesn’t think about it all the time.

“Well, yeah. But not every guy who likes guys is my type, obviously. And there are definitely more gay guys at our school than you’d think, but not everyone is in a place to get into anything for more than a night or two. Coming out sucks and a lot of people have much less accepting homes than I do. So I stuck with Aiden.”

“Wait. More gay guys like who?” Harry asks.

Louis’ body turns rigid. “Like I’m really going to tell you that, Harry. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“Sorry,” Harry immediately realizes his mistake. “I just. I was curious.”

And he still hates Louis for many reasons, but shame flows through him as Louis shakes his head and looks out his window, away from Harry. He suddenly wants nothing more than for Louis to look at him and for them to revert back to their conversation.

It’s the most attention Louis has ever paid Harry without the cover of it being a class period.

“I think I missed your turn. Where do I go?” Louis finally asks.

Harry points him the correct direction and the silence fills the car once again.

“I didn’t mean to, like, pry. I didn’t want to find out and spread rumors or anything. I was just, like, _curious,”_ Harry mumbles.

Louis drives in silence until they reach the park with the swings. Harry points to his house and Louis puts up the brake. He turns the keys until the engine shuts off and turns to face Harry directly.

“Harry, it’s okay to be curious,” Louis tells him.

“I’m not curious,” Harry blurts out in a panic. Liar, liar, liar.

Louis blinks. Louis ignores him and continues.

“It’s okay to be curious. We meet on campus Wednesdays during lunch because it’s too hard to find a good day to meet after school. But if on-campus meetings aren’t your deal, we also have events and meetings out of school so people can come without people knowing they’re _coming._ The club is open for anyone, even just allies, as long as they’re respectful.”

The only sound Harry hears is his unsteady breathing.

“If you ever get curious again,” Louis belatedly adds on.

Harry clutches Connor to his chest and tries to remember why he hates Louis.

“Okay,” Harry responds, avoiding Louis’ eyes. “Okay, sorry.”

He opens the door and stumbles out into the cold rain, needing an escape.

“See you tomorrow,” Louis leans over the seat so Harry can see his eyes before he leaves. “Take care of Connor.”

Harry nods and closes the door.

~ 

Harry places Connor in the playpen set up in the corner of the room and drops into the seat next to Louis. It’s appropriate to sit next to the father of his child, he reasons. He can feel Niall’s confused stare at the back of his neck.

“How was Connor last night?” Louis asks.

Harry brings his fingers to the purple bags beneath his eyes and frowns. “He wouldn’t stop crying at midnight. I had to wake up my step-dad so he could teach me how to rock him to sleep.”

“Aw,” Louis actually looks sympathetic. “I could have taught you yesterday. I used to help my mom rock my sisters to sleep. They’re twins and she only has once set of arms, so I’m practically a pro.”

“Well, that’s great to know now,” Harry rolls his eyes.

Old habits die hard. Even if spending time with Louis makes him temporarily forget why he’s mortal enemy number one, Harry still remembers the aloof expression as he told Harry he was a bad fit for the improv team.

Golden Boy talks shit about his exes and is rude to fragile improv team hopefuls. He’s not nearly as perfect as everyone seems to think. Harry can still see Louis as he is beneath all the sparkle.

“Class,” Mr. Grimshaw calls out. He looks just as tired as Harry feels. “I hope you had a better night than I did.”

“What happened, Mr. Grimshaw?” Louis asks. He leans forward in his seat like he’s eager to know.

“I’m glad you asked,” Mr. Grimshaw says. He walks to the front of his desk and leans against it heavily. “Who knows how to change a tire?”

Only Overachieving Owen whose parents own a smog shop raises his hand.

“I figured,” Mr. Grimshaw continues. “Well, this class period we’re going to take a trip to the shop and learn. Because I can’t stand the sound of crying babies today. And because I don’t want anyone else to have to drive two hours out of town to pick up their partner’s inconsolable sister who doesn’t have roadside assistance but _does_ have a popped tire. Let’s go.”

As they all file out of the room, Mr. Grimshaw reminds them all not to tell the principal that they’re leaving a group of babies unattended in his classroom.

~

Changing a tire isn’t as difficult as Harry thought. Ms. Kennedy explains it simply, and even though Harry knows his parents probably don’t have a jack or a wrench or even an extra tire anywhere near their cars, he feels happy knowing that he’s at least a bit more prepared for a flat.

He’s standing next to Louis as Ms. Kennedy explains to Annoying Ali what to do with a flat battery.

“I liked our sewing unit a bit more,” Harry says to him under his breath.

Louis giggles and scrunches his nose at him. “Really? I kept pricking my finger. I was so bad at it.”

Harry feels a weird surge of pride in his chest at the realization that he’s better than Louis at _something._

“I’m actually pretty good,” Harry whispers.

“I hope you know this means you’re making Connor a baby blanket. The winter isn’t over yet. It’s cold out there,” Louis whispers back.

“If you drive me to go get the fabric, then I can,” Harry tosses out. The offer surprises even him.

“I get off soccer practice at 6. I can go home, take a shower, and then come get you? If you’re serious,” Louis clarifies.

And even though he’s been given a way out, Harry nods.

~ 

Harry puts an alarmingly large amount of effort into his fabric store look. He styles his hair and changes into a sleeker coat and wears a pretty purple scarf rather than his usual black.

Harry has never put so much effort into a meeting with someone he has such an immense hatred for.

Louis rings the doorbell at 6:45. Harry’s heart skips a beat. He takes one last look in the mirror and rushes down the stairs, only to find that his mom has already let Louis inside.

His nose is pink with the cold and his hair is still wet from his shower.

“You didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over,” Anne shoots Harry a confused look.

“Sorry. I forgot,” Harry tries to weasel past her before she can ask any more embarrassing questions. “We’re going to go buy fabric for Connor’s baby blanket.”

“And you’re going to leave the baby with me to do that?” she asks, grabbing his elbow to stop him before he can reach the doorknob.

Harry turns and gives her pleading eyes.

“Harry, we can’t just leave our baby with his grandparents when we feel like going out,” Louis grins, taking Harry’s mom’s side.

She turns to look Louis up and down, eyebrow raised as she considers him.

“I think I like your baby-making partner,” Anne says to Harry, then refocuses her attention. “Since you’re my only grandchild’s second father, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“No—” Harry begins, just as Louis says yes.

“Good. If we’re stuck with him for the next eighteen years, I want to get to know him.” Anne hip-bumps Harry in the embarrassing way he’s asked her not to in public for years.

~

And that’s how Harry ends up morosely prodding at his rice as Louis dazzles his mom and step-dad. Even the two people who are supposed to love Harry more than anyone else in the world are not immune to Louis’ charm. They laugh at his jokes, are actually enthralled by his story-telling skills, and Robin promises to set Louis up with an old colleague of his whose daughter is big on improv in the bay area.

Harry hates it. Connor begins to cry from his booster seat at the head of the table and Harry says, “me too” to nobody in particular.

Of course, Louis is the one that ends up holding Connor and calming him down, which in turn makes Harry’s parents turn on him.

“Louis wouldn’t have woken me up in the middle of the night crying and asking how to make it stop,” Robin teases Harry, mortifying him in possibly the worst way possible.

Harry hates everything about this moment.

“You have such a natural way with children,” Anne tells Louis, oblivious to Harry’s crumbling self-esteem. “You’ll be an excellent father one day.”

Louis offers to help with dishes before they go.

Harry hates him.

~ 

It’s ten minutes until closing. Harry clutches Connor to his chest as he and Louis browse through the fabric store, Harry’s heart torn between a pretty lavender and a sky blue, indecisive.

He’s been irascible since the unplanned in-laws encounter and has been answering Louis mostly with _yes_ or _no_ or short five word sentences. It hasn’t made him feel better, though.

“I think Connor’s eyes would go better with the purple,” Louis suggests pleasantly.

“Well, if that’s what his dad _Louis_ thinks, then it must be true,” Harry fumes.

“Harry!” Louis complains, dropping the hopeful expression. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad,” Harry sighs. He passes Connor to Louis and runs his fingers across the lavender fabric.

He’s right. The purple would look good with his eyes.

“I’ll buy you the fabric since you’re the one putting in the work. I’ll take Connor overnight so you can sleep. What do you want from me?” Louis pouts. “I thought we were getting along so well. Why do you hate me again?”

“It’s not you,” Harry sighs. He signals for an employee. He feels melodramatic for what’s going through his head, a truth that Harry’s always known but denied. “It’s all me.”

Louis’ eyebrows knit together. “You hate you?”

“That’s too dramatic,” Harry says. “I just wish I was more, like, I don’t know. More like you, I guess. You’re so good at everything. And everyone likes you best.”

Louis laughs. “Harry, you don’t want to be like me.”

“Why?” Harry asks. “Any deep, dark secrets you’ve been hiding from everyone?”

“No,” Louis says. “Maybe I’m not as put together as some people seem to think, but I’m pretty straightforward.”

An employee with a name tag saying _Joy_ begins to cut the fabric for them.

“Why don’t I want to be like you then?” Harry asks. He looks down to his shoes, feeling a little bit vulnerable with his confession.

“Because you know exactly why,” Louis dismisses his question like it's ridiculous.

“No I don’t. That’s why I’m asking,” Harry frowns.

Louis rubs Connor’s back and squints his eyes at Harry. “Aside from the fact that nobody wants to meet a cheap, knock-off version of me, you’re Harry for a reason. And with an added Louis knock off in the world, then there would be one less genuine Harry in the world, and that would be a sad loss for everyone. In the world.”

Harry lets out a short laugh. Louis’ tone is so genuine he _almost_ believes him.

“Your charm doesn’t work on me,” Harry lies. "I see right through you."

“Shame,” Louis winks.

~ 

“Don’t think that this baby assignment cancels out your other assignments,” Mr. Grimshaw warns the class. It’s blissfully quiet. Niall finally managed to quiet down his and Barbara’s baby. “I’ll be collecting your cooking report tomorrow, first thing.”

“Shit,” Louis groans from beside Harry.

Harry turns to look at him, only a little bit envious of the fact that Connor slept through the night for Louis. “What?”

“I’m useless at cooking and my mom’s working overnight,” Louis sighs.

“You didn’t even start, did you?” Harry laughs.

“No. And she always helps me,” Louis pouts. “I’m going to fail.”

Harry considers his next words carefully. Offering to voluntarily spend time with Louis is still out of character, even though he hates Louis a lot less than he used to.

“I’m good at cooking. I could help.”

Louis smiles at him and grabs at Harry’s arm. “Really?”

Harry burns where they’re touching, and it isn’t the unpleasant kind of burn.

Weird. Harry nods.

“Come to improv practice. Cara’s been AWOL lately and I don’t want to cancel again. You can fill in for her,” Louis suggests.

It hits a sore spot in Harry’s ego. They haven’t explicitly talked about it, but they both remember how Harry didn’t make the team. They both remember Louis avoiding Harry’s eyes as he told him there was no spot for him.

But Harry isn’t going to give up the chance to practice with the team just because of a bruised ego. Improv seems fun and Louis is actually cool, and Harry likes to cook and—

Who is he trying to trick? Harry likes to spend time with Louis. He doesn’t hate him.

In fact, he likes him much more than he ever anticipated. Niall might be closer to the truth than Harry originally thought.

“I’ll be there.”

~ 

Harry bursts into the auditorium with a frantic heart, Connor clutched close to his chest like he’s a kid with a stuffed animal. Immediately, the room goes quiet.

On stage are Louis and his friends Stan, Zayn, and Liam. In the auditorium, front row, are Sophia and Tamara. Harry’s throat is dry as he swallows, remembering that most of them had some type of say in whether Harry was added to the team. They all know he wasn’t good enough.

Everyone’s eyes are on him as he walks down the center aisle towards the stage.

“Harry!” Louis breaks the silence. “You’re here!”

Harry raises a hand in greeting as everyone stares at him.

“It’s molasses voice,” Zayn says, possibly in greeting. Harry sends him a half-smile.

“His name is Harry,” Louis glares. “And since Cara’s decided she’s too good for us, and since I need help with my home ec project after this, he’s filling in for her for the day.”

Stan looks Harry up and down but nods in approval. “New dynamic is good. Keeps us on our toes, right?”

Louis smiles. “Exactly. Now let’s get started.”

~ 

Harry’s heart is flying a million miles per hour. Louis has his Golden Boy smile on and every time he turns to look at Harry, he’s giving him the sparkly eyes that Harry’s always been so jealous of others for getting.

“You sounded exactly like my Grandma!” Louis bursts out. “I swear! And that part where you squinted out into the audience at Connor and asked if that was your grandson or an oversized burrito? After Liam’s piece about the jalapeño? So funny!”

Harry’s cheeks are permanently red. Louis’ praise is addicting.

“God,” Louis squeezes the wheel tighter. “I knew we should have let you on the team instead of Stan! I _told_ them!”

Harry’s heart stops. So many of his previous thoughts about Louis have been flipped on their head.

"You wanted me on the team?"

Louis' smile slides off his face. "Obviously. You're a natural. But I was outvoted."

Harry can't comprehend. "But when you told me I didn't make it. You seemed so, just, like you didn't care at all."

"I cared too much," Louis tells him. He bites his lip and looks away. "I really, really wanted you on the team. Like... _really."_

Louis finally pulls up to the driveway of a two-story house and flies out of the car. Harry follows after him with Connor, smoothing his shirt out even though he knows Louis’ parents aren’t home yet. He doesn't know what to make of Louis' confession.

“My sisters are over at the neighbors for another hour,” Louis explains as he closes the door behind Harry, kicking away a pair of plastic pink high heels as they begin to pass through the hall. “Sorry for the mess. There’s four of them and they’re not the tidiest.”

They make it to the kitchen. Cereal bowls are stacked high in the sink and breakfast crumbs litter the table. A half-eaten banana is drooping over the edge of the counter.

Harry sits Connor down on one of the chairs at the table and pretends not to notice.

“Sorry. Sorry about the mess,” Louis apologizes again, a rare tinge of pink on his cheeks. “We’re all really busy. It’s hard to keep up sometimes. Just give me a few minutes.”

He pulls the dishwasher out and curses when he sees that it’s fully loaded and clean.

“I—“

“Do you need help?” Harry asks, endeared by the drop of sweat now clinging to Louis’ temple.

“No, it’s not your job. I should have realized my house didn’t have ideal cooking conditions,” Louis avoids Harry’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks. “I can help. I don’t mind.”

Louis shakes his head and begins to empty the dishwasher.

Recognizing the plea, Harry joins Connor at the table and pushes a breadcrumb back and forth. He asks Louis questions about improv and the soccer team, distracting him and trying to make him feel more comfortable as he rushes through the dishes.

Louis has never seemed so human.

Soon enough the kitchen is usable, disinfected counters clear and the dishwasher half-filled.

“Alright,” Louis claps his hands together once he and Harry both have their aprons tied around their waists. “What are we making?”

Harry bites his lip against a laugh. Louis doesn’t even know the assignment. Louis invites boys he doesn’t know well over to his house and blushes as he cleans. Louis is wearing a frilly blue apron and he has no shame.

“Biscuits,” Harry grins. “We’re just making biscuits. But make sure you take pictures as you go so Mr. Grimshaw knows you’ve actually done the cooking.”

“He loves me,” Louis brushes him off. “He’d believe me anyway.”

Louis preheats the oven and brings out the items Harry reads off the assignment from his phone.

It’s simple. Louis isn’t great, but he’s also not nearly as bad at cooking as he’d made himself out to be, which makes Harry’s stomach flutter. It’s unlikely, but Harry wonders if maybe Louis wanted Harry to see him at something he isn’t great at because of his too-honest comment at the fabric store.

Smiling the whole way through, Harry takes too many pictures of Louis as he follows the recipe. And when Louis struggles with rolling the dough, Harry takes pride in the way he teaches Louis how to do it correctly.

The front door is thrown open just as Harry throws a disinfectant wipe into the trash. They’ve just finished cleaning up the mini food fight they had with the leftover batter.

The oven timer beeps.

“What’s going on?” Louis’ oldest little sister asks. She’s glaring at the oven mitts Louis’s wearing as though they’re taunting her with a distressing past memory.

“We made biscuits,” Louis explains flatly. “Don’t look so surprised, Lottie.”

One of the twins hides behind Lottie’s leg and stares up at Harry. “Who’s that?”

“This is Harry,” Louis explains, teeth gritted together and he pulls the biscuits from the hot oven. “He’s Connor’s other dad. He’s family.”

The room feels ten degrees warmer.

The second oldest looks Harry up and down and nods. “You did good, brother.”

~ 

Even though the biscuits are long gone, the scent clings to their clothes. Louis’ car smells like a bread box as he drives Harry home.

They’re close to the racist statue, but Harry doesn’t want to leave. 

Louis pulls up to Harry’s curb and shuts the car off. As Louis turns to face him head on, Harry’s stomach is filled with butterflies. 

“So, Aiden has a huge projector in his backyard,” Louis starts off.

Harry tries not to let his stomach sink and expression fall. He doesn’t want to talk about Louis’ ex.

Louis continues. “He has a few outdoor couches and a fire pit and a pool, but obviously it’s a little cold for that.”

“Wow. Too bad he was boring,” Harry comments.

Louis laughs. “I’m no gold digger.”

“I know,” Harry apologizes.

“What I was trying to get at is that we’re having a movie night tomorrow at Aiden’s. For the club. I told you how we have meetings outside of school sometimes, right?”

Harry nods, a new fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah, well, I just wanted to invite you. It’s open for anyone, so… you know. We’re going to watch Rent, and if Cara decides to come she’ll probably act out all of Mimi’s scenes because she’s obsessed with her, so it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Harry nods again.

“So, just. I don’t know. Text me if you want to come and I’ll pick you up,” Louis says. He pulls Harry’s phone from his pocket, types in his passcode, and then adds his number.

Harry’s frozen. His thigh burns where Louis’ fingers touched it and he almost regrets asking Louis to text his mom back while he was trying to get Connor to stop screaming earlier.

Because with Louis’ number, there’s no excuse not to go. And he really does want to go to the movie night, but he’s also afraid.

“Okay,” Harry tries to smile. “That sounds like fun. I’ll text you.”

“No pressure,” Louis tells him as he passes the phone over. Harry grabs it from him and Louis’ fingers linger and press against Harry’s. They touch for so long that Harry’s the one who has to break it. He gulps and puts the phone back in his pocket.

“Don’t forget to finish the written component of the cooking assignment,” Harry reminds Louis. He turns to the backseat and unbuckles Connor’s seat belt. “I’ll take him for the night.”

Harry can feel Louis’ eyes on his back all the way to his front door.

~ 

“Stop crying,” Harry pleads. He’s shirtless and it’s one o’clock in the morning and Connor woke him up in the middle of a very explicit dream. The unintended consequence of the dream makes Harry feel guilty for holding his son in his arms, even if he’s made of plastic.

“Why did I take you for the night?” Harry asks. He rubs his hand across Connor’s back and whimpers. Connor doesn’t answer, so Harry keeps talking. “I think it’s because I like your daddy a little bit.”

Connor doesn’t stop crying. In fact, he gets louder.

“Okay, I like your daddy a lot. I think I even liked him before we had you, even though I pretended I hated him,” Harry bounces in place.

Connor’s screams simmer to loud outbursts.

“I want to kiss your daddy,” Harry further divulges. "Maybe."

Connor quiets, dissolving into a sleepy hiccup until he’s completely silent.

And even though he knows it’s definitely not okay to do with a real baby, he tucks Connor in beside him and closes his eyes.

Harry drifts back to sleep wondering whether the babies are randomly programmed or whether Mr. Grimshaw might be torturing his students while listening in and gaining Intel on the school’s juiciest gossip.

That’s probably a lawsuit waiting to happen, though.

~ 

“Class,” Mr. Grimshaw’s mouth is set in a grim line. “I have bad news about today’s class period.”

“Oh no,” Annoying Ali gasps. “What is it?”

“I have a video to show you. A video that some may find beautiful, but the large majority of you will find graphic, unpleasant and, if the district’s high hopes are met, repulsive.”

“Is it two girls, one cup?” Alejandro asks.

Mr. Grimshaw looks to the floor and sighs. “Close. It’s a live birth.”

The class breaks out into immediate protest.

“No!” Niall covers his eyes. “I was born by C-section! That means I don’t need to know!”

Mr. Grimshaw shakes his head as he surveys the class’ response.

“Mr. Horan. Everyone’s body is different,” Mr. Grimshaw reprimands him. “What if one day you get married and your partner gives birth vaginally?”

“I’m going to throw up!” Chad gags from the back of the class.

Mr. Grimshaw’s entire demeanor radiates displeasure. “You know, maybe it’s good we’re watching this video if you’re all reacting like this.”

He pulls down the screen and starts up the projector. He clicks a few times on his computer and then grins devilishly.

“Enjoy, class.”

Abruptly, the picture cuts from plain blue to someone _right_ in the middle of the action. The camera leaves nothing to the imagination and the person's loud screams blend in with those of three quarters of the class.

Harry’s eyes are wide and terrified, but he can’t tear his eyes from the screen.

All around him, boys are covering their eyes and girls are loudly complaining about the person not shaving if they knew they was going to be on camera. Beside him, Louis watches the room with a tight expression.

“I’ve seen live births before because my mom’s a midwife,” Louis tells Harry. Harry tears his eyes from the screen, a bit squeamish. He knew that about Louis’ mom because of his past obsessive hatred, but he pretends it’s new news. “I’d like to see them find the motivation to shave before popping a baby out of their vagina. It doesn’t happen.”

Harry blinks and sits still. He has absolutely nothing of significance to add to this conversation. He eventually nods, admiring Louis’ ability to look at the screen with an almost bored expression.

“And if they ever have kids, these dudes are going to have to shape up,” Louis continues. “I don’t think I’d ever call birth beautiful like Mr. Grimshaw was saying, but it can be super emotional. Everyone I’ve seen cries eventually.”

“It’s, um. Really big,” Harry answers, cringing as the baby’s head begins to show.

Louis nods. “And then there’s a new person in the world after. It’s cool.”

Harry nods, wishing he weren’t so uncomfortable.

And after class, as they all file out with pale faces and slightly traumatized expressions, Louis brightly reminds Harry to text him if he wants to come to Aiden’s.

The thought of it scares him almost as much as the live birth.

~ 

Harry’s fingers quiver as he sews. He’s using a simple blanket stitch that he’s been able to do with his eye closed since he was fifteen, but the stitches are uneven and inconsistent.

He looks at the time on his phone.

Louis never gave him a time.

Harry continues to sew. And sew. And sew.

~ 

Harry toes at the sand beneath his feet. The racist statue stands at a distance and he can see the light on in his parents’ room. He pushes off the ground and swings.

But within a few minutes, he grows lonely. He pulls out his phone and finally calls Louis.

“Hello?” Louis answers, slightly out of breath.

“Hey,” Harry says. “What are you doing?”

Louis’ words are muffled and then a door slams. “I was just helping Aiden clean up. But I’m leaving now. Why didn’t you text me? Did you not want to come? You could have told me.”

“I did,” Harry sighs. “I wanted to go, but I was afraid I’d feel out of place.”

“I told you _everyone_ was welcome—” Louis begins, but Harry cuts him off.

“Can you come meet me at the park across from my house? I’m on the swings,” Harry says.

“Yeah. I’ll be there soon,” Louis promises.

~

“So,” Louis plops into the swing beside Harry. He settles Connor comfortably on his lap. “What’s going on Mr. Grumps? You missed quite a show. Cara’s bendy.”

“How many people are in your club?” Harry asks.

“Not that many. High school sucks enough without having a giant flashing rainbow pinned to your chest,” Louis answers.

Harry sighs to himself. It wasn’t exactly the answer he was hoping for.

“Hey,” Louis reaches over and grabs Harry’s chain, pulling them closer. They sway together. “Even though it’s small, it’s really helpful. Every member is a safe person to talk to.”

Harry ducks his head and takes in a shaky breath.

“So how does this go? How do I join? What am I supposed to ask you?”

“Whatever you want to know or talk about,” Louis says. He links their ankles together and pulls at the chains, bringing them closer together.

“I mean… I dated a guy once. But it only lasted a week. Like you said, it’s hard to have a relationship in high school. So I’ve never been, like, out and proud or anything.”

Harry looks down to the sand, glad to have that off his chest. Louis’ involvement with the club has always been a jealousy he’s tried to downplay, so it’s nice to admit his problem with Louis wasn’t just for petty reasons but also the result of an internal battle.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, his voice soft. “It really is. Did your parents know? Did anyone else know?”

“Not my parents, but my sister did. And Niall. Niall’s the one who got his number for me.”

Louis links their ankles together tighter. “Well then. Thank you for telling me. We haven’t been close for very long, so that took a lot of courage on your part and that’s a lot of trust you’ve shown me.”

Harry can't help but laugh, breaking the serious mood. “Way to sound like a teacher or something.”

“To be vice president of the club I had to read a bunch of pamphlets about what to do when people come out to you,” Louis explains, blushing. “Sorry if it wasn’t _good_ enough. I’m too technically trained, I guess.”

“What about, like, your reaction as a friend? Not as a member of that club,” Harry asks.

“You think we’re friends?” Louis grins.

“Louis,” Harry complains. He kicks at the sand with his free foot. “You’re avoiding the subject.”

“Ah, alright.” Louis stands and sets Connor in the sand, brushes his hands off on his jeans, and holds his arms out to of Harry. “Someone sounds like they want a hug and some attention.”

Harry smiles and buries himself into Louis’ arms. Louis rubs at his back and brings his lips to Harry’s ear.

“As a friend, I still want to thank you for telling me. I still think it’s brave and I still feel ridiculously trusted. As a friend, I want you to know I’ll always support you and that this changes nothing. And as a friend, I want you to know that you’re ridiculously cute and any guy would be lucky to date you. How does that sound?”

Harry’s smile is squished into Louis’ hair. “That sounds really good to me.”

Harry’s just gotten comfortable with being held in Louis’ arms when Connor lets out a loud scream.

“Real life always comes back at the worst times,” Louis sighs as he pulls away. He turns to grab Connor but lets out a small scream.

A small figure thunders away into a bush at the sound.

“A cat!” Louis exclaims, hand over his mouth. “A cat was trying to eat our baby!”

“What?” Harry asks flatly. He’s ashamed to say he’s slightly upset with a cat for overshadowing the moment.

“He ran into the bush! He looked so small,” Louis frowns. He leaves Connor behind and wanders over to the bush. “Come out, kitty cat. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Miraculously, the kitten creeps out of the bush, small and matted.

“Oh,” Louis sounds so sad. He sits on the floor and allows the kitten to crawl into his lap.

“Louis, wild cats aren’t safe,” Harry warns him. “We should bring him to the animal shelter.”

“No,” Louis coos. He scratches behind the cat’s ears. He purrs and buries his head into Louis’ ribs. “See Harry? He likes me. He’s friendly.”

“He might belong to someone already. We should bring him to the shelter to see if he’s micro chipped,” Harry says.

“But he’s so dirty. His owners obviously don’t care about him,” Louis argues, his voice still stuck in animal mode. “We’d be better pet owners.”

“You should just bring him to a shelter anyway to make sure,” Harry says. “I’m volunteering there tomorrow, actually. I can pick you up and we can bring him together, maybe?”

“I’d love that,” Louis agrees. “But I’m taking him back to my house until then.”

“Okay,” Harry is relieved to have a plan. He grabs Connor and watches nervously as Louis picks up the cat.

“Don’t worry,” Louis tells Harry. “Another kid will be a piece of cake.”

The closer they get to Louis’ car, the more reluctant Harry is to let him go. He’s sad when they reach the door.

“I’m having a party tomorrow night at my house. The twins have a gymnastics competition out of town, so my family’s staying at my grandma’s for the night. Some of the people from the LGBT club and the improv team will be there. And I’d love for you to be there too.”

Harry nods, but things still feel unfinished.

“I feel like you knew before I even told you,” Harry says.

“Oh, I definitely did,” Louis smiles, accepting the subject change. “But I wasn’t going to take away from your moment. Everyone deserves to come out on their own time.”

“How’d you know?” Harry asks.

“What kind of straight guy bitterly apologizes for not being a gay guy’s ex boyfriend?” Louis gently asks.

Harry remembers that car ride well.

“You’re perceptive,” Harry tells him. “Or maybe I just sucked at pretending to be straight with you.”

“It’s amazing how easily your walls can come down around someone who’ll be gentle with what they find,” Louis says. He moves the kitten to one arm and gives Harry a half hug. “Text me when you’re coming to pick me up for the animal shelter tomorrow?”

Harry nods and watches as Louis settles into the driver’s seat. He’ll see him soon, but he’s still sad to see him go.

“Be safe.”

~

After being told that the kitten isn’t micro chipped and making sure he’s vaccinated sufficiently, Louis officially has a cat.

Louis sits on the windowsill as Harry plays with the shelter cats and cleans out their cages.

“I don’t know what to name him,” Louis sighs, fingers scratching into the small kitten’s ribs and he naps on Louis’ chest.

“What about Brad?” Harry jokes.

“Shut up,” Louis laughs. “I want to name him Zeke. The only time he needs his name is on his collar, so I don’t think you’d have an issue with it.”

“Zeke is a good name,” Harry says. He holds his breath as he reaches into a particularly dirty cage.

“So you agree that we should name him Zeke?” Louis asks. “He’s ours, so I wouldn’t want to name him something you hate.”

Harry pauses from his scrubbing. “He’s really both of ours? You don’t have to share him. I won’t mind.”

“You don’t want someone to call you daddy?” Louis asks innocently.

Harry chokes. But blames it on the smell.

~ 

Niall at his side, Harry straightens out his collar and rings Louis’ doorbell.

“It’ll be chill,” Niall reassures him. Both opted to leave their children at home because a party is no place for a responsible parent to bring a child, but Harry feels a bit weird coming to Louis’ without Connor as a buffer or excuse. It feels like a step forward of some sort, crossing into a new phase in their relationship.

Louis opens the door and smiles bright at them, his lip a deep red, clearly tipsy.

“Harry! You made it,” Louis giggles. “And you brought Niall! Hi Niall.”

He hugs Harry and clings for a bit before letting them both inside. It’s tidier than it was last time Harry visited.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Louis tells them like it’s a secret. “We only have wine because I didn’t want anyone getting sloppy. And because we’re not sixteen anymore, so it’s time to mature our taste buds. I hope that’s okay.”

Harry shrugs. He’s had wine at church. It can’t be too bad.

“Everyone say hi to Harry and Niall!” Louis says to the room as they enter.

Harry smiles at the faces he recognizes as Louis pops open a bottle from the counter for Harry and Niall to share.

Everyone’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in a circle. Liam scoots closer to Sophia and makes room for Harry and Niall to sit. It’s across the circle from where Louis plops down, which is the only reason Harry hesitates before getting down on the floor with them.

Harry brings the bottle to his lips then passes it to Niall.

The circle is quiet, all eyes on the two new intruders as they acclimatize to the new shift in dynamic. Harry shifts his left leg over his right, feeling a blush creep up his neck.

“Stop staring. He’s my baby’s father,” Louis rolls his eyes. It seems to have been directed at the whole circle, but he shoves Aiden in the ribs as he says it. Aiden shoves back, and Harry knows Louis thinks Aiden’s boring as a boyfriend, but they definitely get along _very well_ as friends.

Harry doesn’t really know whether to be happy for him or just plain jealous.

“Sorry,” Aiden says. And Harry doesn’t miss the way he leans into Louis’ side in apology. Nope. He does not.

It just makes him think about the fact that they’ve fooled around in Louis’ car together. 

“So, um, how do you all know each other?” Harry asks, hoping to break the ice.

And break it, it does.

Everyone from improv is there, and there are five people from the LGBT club that Harry files into the back of his mind as people to wave to in the halls. There’s even a boy from Louis’ soccer team, though the rest of the team is noticeably absent.

“They’re not exactly my friends,” Louis explains after a pull from his bottle. He hands it over to Aiden and Harry cringes as their fingers brush. “I think they’re afraid if they came over they’d walk in on a gay orgy and be expected to join in as initiation.”

“But that’s exactly what I did,” Annie laughs. She leans back as she chugs the last drops of her bottle and then sets it down. It tips over and falls horizontal.

The neck points in Cara’s direction, and Annie bites her lip.

“Let’s play spin the bottle,” she suggests to the group.

Everyone groans.

“What are we? Fourteen?” Louis asks.

“Did anyone actually play spin the bottle at fourteen?” Liam asks. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he looks small.

“Yes,” everyone choruses back, voices laced with varying degrees of exasperation.

Liam frowns and his eyes lower. “Oh.”

“Aw,” Sophia grabs his elbow and leans in close. “Did you never play?”

“I guess I was just a weenie,” Liam shrugs. “It’s okay. It doesn’t seem like it was that cool anyway.”

Harry sees the moment Louis’ expression goes from skeptical to pitying.

“Let’s play. For Liam. He needs the experience. Nobody should graduate high school without a good game of spin the bottle under their belt,” Louis says.

And, well. Nobody argues. Because deep down, few people hate having an excuse to kiss people for fun.

Annie argues that she already spun and crawls over to Cara. She kisses her and Cara laughs all the way through it, arms wrapped around Annie’s back.

Harry can’t help but stare. He hasn’t kissed a boy in nearly a year. He didn’t realize before now how much he’s missed it.

Annie takes a half-bow when she’s done.

Tamara takes the bottle next and spins, wiggling her eyebrows as the bottle slows. It lands on Louis.

Louis giggles into his hands and sends a challenging look Tamara’s way. “I don’t think you could handle me.”

Tamara’s jaw drops. “I think I can handle anyone.”

And then she crawls over to Louis and she takes his jaw in hand and kisses him, all drama and show, and Harry’s heart hammers because that’s what he wants. He wants that so badly. He wants to kiss Louis. He doesn’t just want to kiss a boy. He wants to kiss Louis.

Louis wipes his lips as Tamara crawls back to her spot in the circle. He laughs and his expression is a little bit astonished, being bested at his own game. “Maybe I was the one who couldn’t handle it.”

A few more turns pass. Harry’s stomach fills with nerves as people around him kiss, easy as anything. But he couldn’t care less about who anyone other than Louis kisses (though he’s surprised that Niall shrugs when Stan lands on him.)

And then it’s Aiden’s turn.

He spins, and it seems to go in slow motion, and it lands on Louis.

And Harry wants to scream. Louis shakes his head at first, saying something about exes being exempt, but the crowd doesn’t let them off easily.

“Come on! Like old times,” Cara shimmies their way. “Just one kiss! What’ll it hurt?”

Louis’ expression is conflicted as he turns to look at Aiden.

Aiden shrugs and kisses Louis, and it’s only on the corner of his mouth, really only half a kiss that could have been a misplaced cheek kiss, but Harry still sees red. Louis looks down at his lap as everyone cheers, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and it makes Harry want to kiss him until he can’t remember Aiden’s mouth at all.

Louis skips his turn and the kisses go back around the circle. Until it’s Harry’s turn.

He spins. And he decides that, even if it doesn’t land on Louis, he’s going to try to kiss Louis.

It lands between Louis and Aiden, and even though it’s honestly pointing more in Aiden’s direction, Harry crawls to Louis with purpose in his eyes.

Around him, people catcall and yell encouragements. It spurs Harry on, makes him feel feral and sexy as he licks his lips and stares deep into Louis’ eyes.

Louis lets out a shuddery breath as they get within arms distance. He looks down at Harry’s lip and gulps. “Harry, you don’t have to…”

But Harry doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hesitate. He expects it to be quick, but he can’t make it quick.

At the first brush of their lips, Louis responds enthusiastically, his hands on Harry’s waist as Harry clutches at his jaw and his pulse thunders in his ears. Harry moans into Louis’ mouth and pushes forward, up on his knees and hovering over Louis. Harry’s thoughts are blank and he’s clutching Louis’ jaw too tightly and it’s dead silent around them but Harry can hardly register it.

Harry pushes his chest into Louis’, thinking abstract thoughts comparing love and hate and converging train tracks.

Louis finally pulls away, breathless, lips wet as he stares up into Harry’s eyes.

The next moment, the room erupts into cheers.

“You forgot about me that quickly?” Aiden asks. Harry can sense that it’s aimed to be a joke but he can also hear the yearning behind it.

“We have a kid together,” Louis explains him away. He makes room for Harry between them and pats at the floor.

Louis puts his arm around Harry and doesn’t move it.

~ 

The car’s warmth is a sharp contrast to the chill outside and Harry totally could have walked home, but Louis insisted.

Niall is in the backseat pretending to be engulfed in a game on his phone. Louis’ rainbow lights make his skin glow. Harry really, really wants to kiss him again. His skin feels like fire, Louis’ arm draped over his arm all night the match.

Louis drops Niall off first. Once he’s out of the car and they’re back on the road, Harry’s phone vibrates.

_Sorry for being a cockblock!! Get spme!!_

Harry laughs.

“What?” Louis asks. He’s a dark silhouette in the night except for the glow of the buttons. Harry wants to touch him so much. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because Niall apologized for being a cockblock,” Harry giggles, testing Louis' reaction.

“Ah,” Louis nods. “Well, I promise you my cock is safely in my pants.”

Harry tries not to imagine Louis’ cock. He tries very hard but fails. “Mine too.”

When Louis pulls up to Harry’s curb, he shuts the car off and turns to him. It makes the butterflies come back, Louis’ open stance after he’s parked one that he’s become accustomed to.

“I really liked kissing you,” Louis gets right out with it.

Harry lets out a sigh of relief. “I really liked kissing you too.”

“I think I’d like to kiss you again,” Louis continues. “But I think I’d also like to take you out for real on a date, other than at an animal shelter or fabric store. If you want, we can go out of town so we can keep it quiet.”

It takes Harry by surprise. Physical attraction is one thing, but an attempt at romance—that’s another. Harry’s skin burns a few degrees hotter.

“Or we could pretend I never asked that, if you’d rather not,” Louis says, mistaking his silence.

“No! No, I’d like that,” Harry says. “I think I’d like that a lot. We don’t have to go out of town.”

Louis smiles, and it’s shy and it’s cute and Harry inches forward.

Louis meets him halfway. This kiss is slower and softer, tongues meeting shyly as Louis’ hands creep down Harry’s back.

And even though Harry’s pretty sure his mom might be watching from the front window, it doesn’t make it feel any less right.

~

“Happy Monday,” Mr. Grimshaw greets them all. He has bags beneath his eyes that suggest a long weekend. “The reality is that babies get sick and things go wrong and sometimes things don’t go as planned. Your or your partner needs to come up and pick a paper from my hat. Instructions for the second half of your project will be printed there.”

A baby in the playpen begins to wail.

“For God’s sake,” Mr. Grimshaw collapses into his desk chair and opens his computer. The class is quiet as they watch their usually energetic teacher type with angry, heavy fingers.

He stops and looks up at the class. “Well? What are you waiting for? I gave you your instructions.”

Half the class stands and approaches the desk, matching expressions of concern on their faces.

“I’ll go,” Louis tells Harry. He waits until the line has dwindled and the crying baby has stopped.

Harry watches as he approaches Mr. Grimshaw and taps on his shoulder. Harry grits his teeth as their teacher turns to glare at Louis, but his eyes soften when he sees who it is.

They have a short conversation. Louis places a hand on Mr. Grimshaw’s shoulder and it’s kind of weird because that’s such a teacher-like thing to do, but Louis makes it look natural.

He comes back with a slip of paper and a frown.

“The woman whose baby they’re adopting had her prematurely. Nick’s been in and out of the hospital since Saturday night,” Louis explains.

“Is the baby alright?” Harry asks.

Louis nods but looks doubtful. “She’s having breathing difficulties, so she’s staying at the hospital. I don’t think he’d really like to be at work right now.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Harry agrees.

Louis turns the piece of paper over in his hands. “I wish there was something I could do to help. Everyone loves him so much. I hate seeing him like this.”

“Maybe, like, a card?” Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head and unwraps the paper. “He doesn’t want everyone to—”

Louis’ expression falls.

“What?” Harry asks.

Louis blinks and his lower lip wobbles. He hands the paper to Harry.

_Your baby passes away from SIDS. In your presentation, explain the suspected causes of and ways to prevent SIDS._

Harry drops the paper to his desk.

“No.”

“That’s so sad,” Louis’ lips wobbles more noticeably.

Harry feels tears build in his eyes. It makes him feel dramatic and like he’s overreacting, but his heart feels heavy. Even though he knows Connor isn’t a real baby and that he’s fine and very much plastic in the corner, he’s grown attached to his doll in the time he’s known him.

So he can’t imagine how terrible and awful it is for an actual parent to lose a baby this way.

“Is it bad that I want to cry?” Harry asks.

“Yes, because if you cry then I might cry,” Louis says.

Harry’s mind inexplicably goes to the almost completed baby blanket stored in his room at home. “He won’t be able to see his blanket I made for him.”

Louis frowns and takes Harry’s hand under the table.

“We can give it to Zeke,” Louis tries his best to comfort him.

Harry nods, but it doesn’t make it any better. Louis rubs circles into his hand, but it doesn’t make him have butterflies like it probably would any other time.

“Hey,” Louis whispers. “It’ll be okay. We’ll look up how to prevent it. And then, you know, maybe that will make it so none of our classmates’ babies ever have to deal with it in the future. Maybe we can save a real life with this presentation.”

With a brave face, Louis pulls out his phone and opens safari.

~ 

Harry still feels like he’s in sad daze by the time he gets home from school. It’s rainy and dark and windy and Harry’s heart feels the same way.

He skips his homework and finishes Connor’s baby blanket, only crying a little bit as he goes.

But at 7, he gets a call from Louis.

He answers, his _hello_ a bit morose.

But what he gets back is frantic panic.

“I just got back from improv and I think Zeke ate grapes!” Louis shouts into Harry’s ear.

Harry’s arm jerks, keeping the phone a safe distance away from his eardrum. “How many?”

“I don’t know,” Louis’ voice is thick. “But the bag is still on the table. And there are a lot of grapes left but it’s open. Nobody’s been home but Zeke. He ate grapes!”

“Take him to the vet,” Harry says. “They’ll be able to monitor him.”

“Where’s the vet?” Louis asks, his voice watery. “I’ve never had a cat before!”

“It’s not that far,” Harry tells him. “Zeke will be okay.”

“If I pick you up, can you show me how to get there?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry answers. He grabs his shoes and Zeke’s blanket, and then thunders down the stairs. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

~

The windshield wipers are a blur.

With Zeke wrapped in his completed blanket and clutched to Harry’s chest, Harry points Louis to turn to the left.

“He’s the vet all of the shelter animals go see,” Harry explains. Thankfully, when Harry had called ahead as he waited for Louis to pick him up, the doctor said he was still in his office.

Louis nods and races down the road.

“How is Zeke?”

Harry looks down to the tiny kitten, his eyes closed against Harry’s chest.

“He’s sleepy. His breathing feels normal, though,” Harry reassures him.

“Okay,” Louis lets out a breath. “That’s good, right?”

He squints as he looks out to the road ahead of him. He switches settings on his wipers, but they don’t speed up from their slowing speed.

“What the fuck?” Louis murmurs.

And then the car dies in operation.

“Shit!” Louis slaps the dashboard as the car slows to a stop at the edge of the road. Louis tries to get the car to restart, but the engine doesn't roar to a start. “How close are we to the vet?”

The kitten begins to stir in Harry’s arms, upset by Louis’ outburst. “Probably, like, half a mile away.”

“Fuck!” Louis grits his teeth. “Both of our kids in one day. Give me Zeke.”

“Why?” Harry asks.

“I’m going to go run him to the vet while you stay here,” Louis tells him. “Safe in the car.”

“It’s really cold out there,” Harry reminds him.

“I’m quick,” Louis argues. “And I’ll keep Zeke covered. It’ll take five minutes tops.”

“I’ll try to figure out how to get the car to start,” Harry offers, but Louis shakes his head. “No. Stay inside. You’ll get wet.”

And with that, Louis is out in the rain, sprinting with a kitten hidden beneath his coat. And Harry is alone in a dead car on the side of the street.

It’s not like they’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, but there are few cars that pass by. Harry locks the doors and grabs his phone.

He opens safari, types in _car stopped working while driving,_ and waits.

And, well. It turns out that cars are very complicated. Harry rules out that they ran out of gas, there doesn’t seem to be any smoke coming from the engine, and he has no idea how to test any of the belts or brake chains.

The battery might be flat.

That makes something in Harry’s brain click. Flat battery. _Flat battery._ Ms. Kennedy told Ali what to do with a flat battery during home ec, but Harry was too busy paying attention to Louis to listen.

But, alas, that is what 4G is for. Harry types in _flat battery_ and then—he has his answer. The only problem is he’s not sure if he has a jumper cable. And he definitely doesn’t have another car.

So, like the scared 18 year old he is, he calls his mom.

~ 

An hour later, cold and wet with his mom’s lipstick mark fresh on his cheek, Harry parks in front of Dr. Frank’s Veterinary Center. He turns off Louis’ car and prays that it will begin again when they’re free to go.

Inside, Louis is curled up on a bench in the waiting room, fingernails in his mouth.

“Hey,” Harry brings a hand to Louis’ shoulder. “How is he?”

Louis jumps and throws a hand over his heart. “You scared me.”

Harry sits close and passes Louis his keys. “My mom jumped your car.”

Louis lets out a sigh of relief as he takes the keys. “I’ll be sure to thank her when I see her next.”

“How’s Zeke?” Harry presses.

“The doctor induced vomiting but… I think I may have overreacted,” Louis admits.

“He’s okay?” Harry asks.

Louis fidgets and crosses his ankles together. “He didn’t see any grapes and he thinks he’s probably fine. He doesn’t even think he’s going to keep him overnight.”

Harry tries to hide his giddy laugh, but it’s just such good news after such a stressful day.

Louis doesn’t take to it kindly. He shoves at Harry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for overreacting but what was I supposed to think? Like Nick said, things go wrong and sometimes things don’t go as planned! It is a crime to care about my kitten that I love very much?”

Harry shakes his head. He leans his head onto Louis’ shoulder and curls up into his side. “No. I think it’s cute. I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

“You just think I’m cute in general,” Louis leans his head on top of Harry’s.

“I do,” Harry agrees.

Louis sighs. “And you know what? You’re a lot less boring than Aiden.”

That sends a bolt of adrenaline through him, but Harry hides it. “Gee, thanks.”

“No! I’m serious,” Louis finds Harry’s hand at his side and grabs it. Harry laces their fingers together, happy smile on his face. “We’ve only been hanging out for like a week, but I already like you more than I liked my last boyfriend. That must be a record.”

“Remember when I hated you?” Harry asks, laughing at the memory. “Maybe that’s why.”

“True. Is that some form of reverse psychology?” Louis asks. He holds onto Harry’s hand tighter, forcing Harry to look at him. “He hates you. So you decide to like him more than anyone else.”

“That sounds right,” Harry grins. “I’m glad I don’t hate you anymore.”

“Me too loser.”

~ 

“Alright,” Mr. Grimshaw claps his hands together. It’s Friday, the day of their final presentations and the day the rest of the class turns in their fake babies. Mr. Grimshaw’s temper has lessened over the week, and he’s finally back to smiling.

“Presentation day! I need everyone’s reports on my desk before they begin their PowerPoint. We only have this class period, so who wants to go first?”

Louis raises his hand. Their presentation is a quick set up, and everyone oohs and ahhs over the introduction slide with the picture Louis took of the babies at his mom’s work.

It’s a good presentation. Everyone laughs at Louis’ recollection of Connor’s near-kidnapping at the park and nods understandingly when Harry admits he had to wake his step-dad up in the middle of the night to make Connor stop crying.

And the audience is appropriately morose as they explain what SIDS is and how upsetting it was to have to turn in their baby four days before everyone else. Annoying Ali actually takes notes when they warn the class how important it is to make sure a baby sleeps on its back during their first year, which in turn makes Harry dislike her a lot less and feel better about the whole sad situation.

“Nice job boys,” Mr. Grimshaw compliments them as the class applauds them, a picture of Louis and Harry kissing both of Connor’s cheek displayed on the projector as their final slide. “I had high hopes for you from the beginning, and you knocked it out of the park.”

Harry doesn’t really care to pay attention to the rest of the presentations, but he does laugh along with the class as Niall drops his and Barbara’s baby in front of everyone. Mr. Grimshaw is less impressed and tells Niall that’s an automatic fail, but he says it with a smile so Harry doesn’t think it truly is.

And then at the end of class, Mr. Grimshaw takes his place at the front of his desk, legs crossed and body relaxed.

“Class, I have a quick announcement. It’s good for me, but honestly tragic for you.”

A hush falls over the room.

“You’re going to have a sub for a few weeks. I’m taking leave, so they’ll be teaching you the rest of the child development unit,” Mr. Grimshaw finishes. “Along with how to bake my famous chocolate chip muffins, so you’re truly missing out.”

“Why are you leaving?” Annoying Ali complains.

Mr. Grimshaw’s face lights up. “Paternity leave. My partner and I have a real baby to take care of.”

Of course, Harry already knew because Louis knows everything, but it’s no less satisfying to hear from his favorite teacher’s mouth.

~

**A Few Weeks Later**

~

Harry fixes his hair in the mirror at the side of the stage. The curtains are drawn, but he still feels every bit as nervous as he would if they were open.

Stan and Zayn are behind him, fixing their bow ties and fussing with their outfits in a way that makes Harry feel more anxious than he thought he would be.

After Cara officially resigned as a member of the improv team, Harry knew it was a big step to accept the position. But he never realized the nerves that would come before his first official show. It doesn’t help that the poster he’d spent an hour making the night before is staring back at him tauntingly, half hidden beneath a prop chair only a few feet from him.

Honestly, Harry feels like he might throw up from how nervous he is.

He wonders if that would be a nice way to begin the show. He wonders if people would think it was improvised throw up.

Before he can worry much more, he feels Louis’ arms slide around his waist.

“Nervous?” he asks. He presses his lips to Harry’s temple and makes eye contact with him in the mirror.

“A little bit,” Harry admits. He angles them away from the chair.

“If you don’t want to make the introduction, I can do it for you,” Louis offers.

But Harry shakes his head. Making the intro was a privilege he specifically asked for, and he’s not about to back out.

“How many more minutes?” Harry asks, hand to his chest as he tries to even out his breathing.

At that moment, Sophia comes at them from backstage. “We’re on in a minute.”

“Not long apparently,” Louis frowns at him. “You good?”

“I think I have to be,” Harry gulps.

“Come on,” Louis leads him to the group. Everyone’s huddled close together, hands on top of each other in the center.

“We’re going to have an amazing show,” Louis raises his voice, addressing everyone. “We’ve got a great dynamic going. Say yes, don’t try too hard to be funny, and for God’s sake Liam, don’t try to make our sketch about that dehydrated astronaut. It’s old and we’re all tired of it.”

Liam grumbles but doesn’t protest.

“Harry’s going to give the intro, and then he’ll give it to the audience. Sound good?”

Everyone nods, and Harry’s not sure he’s going to make it.

But he is. The curtain opens and his legs move him forward until he reaches the center microphone.

The lights are bright and blinding but he can still see how packed the audience is. He squints out, smiling when he sees Niall front row holding Barbara’s hand. He swallows, breathes, and speaks into the microphone.

“Um, hi. I’m Harry, and I’m new to the team. Thanks for coming to our fundraiser. We have a, hopefully, a really good show for you all tonight. All of the money from your ticket goes to support the, um, the LGBT club on campus. It’s a group that’s, like, _really_ important to me personally.”

Harry’s throat feels like it clamps down on itself, but he powers through to the easier part.

“So, with that said, thanks again for coming. Um, does anyone have any requests?”

Members of the audience begin to shout out suggests, most of them rude and inappropriate, but Harry can’t single out a good idea to start with.

Louis takes charge and pulls a chair out to center stage. He sits and centers himself as the rest of the team assumes position and waits for Louis to set the scene.

Harry’s heart is stuttering as Louis opens his eyes and leans forward.

“We interrupt your previously scheduled programming to bring you a special news report. In Texas, an unlucky man has been caught in the middle of an attempted burglary completely naked. To you, Julia,” Louis says in his best reporter voice.

Tamara raises an imaginary microphone and steps forward. “Thanks, Joe. As you can imagine, customers were _horrified_ to discover that a naked man was holding up their holiday shopping!”

She grabs Liam and pulls him close to her.

“Thankfully, we have an eye-witness right here. Everyone wants to know, what was going through your head when you realized what was happening?”

“Oh, so much,” Liam says into the imaginary microphone Tamara points his way. “I was just couponing as I do at the check out when I heard the announcement. I’ve heard he’s still at large somewhere in the store!”

Recognizing his chance to get in on the scene, Harry strips off his shirt and runs to hide behind Zayn. He looks to the left and to the right, covering his crotch the whole time.

Zayn brings his hand to his mouth like a walkie-talkie and begins to speak at a lazy pace. “Valued customers. We here at your local grocery mart sincerely thank you for choosing to shop with us for your holiday needs. Please excuse any delays in your shopping experience, and security, we have a code three in aisle seven.”

Stan comes rushing forward. “Your grandma can’t save you from the law now!”

Sophia hunches over and pretends to lean on a cane. She hobbles over to Harry, Zayn, and Stan. “Has anyone seen my grandson? He said he was going to go grab some milk. But he forgot to bring the cow!”

“He’s grabbed more than just the milk,” Tamara comments.

“Grandma!” Harry shouts. “Is that Tilly?”

Harry points to the audience and his cast mates turn their eyes to the lights, in search of an imaginary cow. Harry runs to hide behind Tamara and Liam as they look away.

“My God,” Louis squints. “I don’t even think that’s even big enough to censor!”

“Valued customers,” Zayn brings his walkie-talkie back to his mouth. “We sure do thank you for choosing us as your shopping destination. We’ve been told that our beef is the freshest in town. Our meat department is open until 10:30, late for your holiday convenience.”

Stan mimes stealing Sophia’s cane. With an overdramatic cry, she falls to the floor.

“Getting rid of cows can’t be harder than getting rid of upset white moms with Kate Gosselin haircuts. Out!” he acts as though he’s sword fighting the imaginary cow.

“My leg!” Sophia shouts.

“We’re here for an exclusive interview with the naked thief himself. What do you want viewers at home to know?” Tamara asks. She shoves the pretend microphone under his nose.

And Harry’s mind blanks. He thinks and the scene stutters to an awkward pause.

Because the thing is, Harry has his poster hidden at the corner of the stage. And it’s a little early into the show to use it, but the timing couldn’t be better. Tamara’s question— _what do you want viewers at home to know—_ is exactly it.

“Valued customers,” Zayn comes to his rescue. “We want to thank you for your patience—”

Liam crosses stage right. “My coupon expired three weeks ago, but I think all things considered, with a naked man roaming the store, it would be poor service to not let it through.”

Zayn drops his pretend walkie-talkie to the floor. “I quit.”

“There’s a reason I’m here today,” Harry announces, stealing the limelight back.

Tamara nods and holds the fake microphone with more conviction. “Does it have to do with those two people tied up in aisle one?”

And then Harry breaks the most important rule of improv. “No. It’s not.”

Tamara’s smile falters but she thinks quickly. “Oh. I didn’t realize this doubled as a BDSM training camp. Developments around every corner. Back to you, Joe, while we try to figure out what’s happening.”

Harry rushes off stage just as all eyes turn to Louis. “Um. Tragic. Truly tragic. This just in—the thief’s grandmother has been…”

Harry returns to stage with his poster held high above his head. He points it to the audience first, grinning at the immediate _aww_ that gives him the courage to point the poster towards his cast mates.

Harry watches Louis’ lips as he mouths _Louis, will you be my b—_

Louis smiles, and it’s a smile that makes Harry feel like he can fly. He thinks that maybe if he can make someone smile that big from one question, maybe he’s more like Louis Tomlinson than he originally thought.

Louis stands and nods. Everyone breaks character as he walks forward and takes Harry into his arms, grinning into his neck as he lets out a tearful laugh.

Harry squeezes him tight, only a little bit self-conscious about still being half naked. “Are you crying?”

“Yes,” Louis sniffles. “Not just because I’m happy to be your boyfriend, but because I was 100% convinced I was going to have to kick you off the team. I’m so relieved.”

He kisses Harry’s cheek and grabs his hand, motioning for the rest of the cast to come forward so they can take a bow.

And as Harry is blinded by the lights, everyone in the audience on their feet for him, clapping and smiling, Harry thinks maybe his birthday wish came true.

He may not be Louis, but he thinks this is shaping up to be the year he finds love and becomes the person he’s always wanted to be.

~

**Author's Note:**

> please reblog the [fic post](http://thedarkestlarrie.tumblr.com/post/149666796971/fic-18-author-aclosetlarryshipper-rating-nar%22) if you liked it :)


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